


Metamorphosis

by rhoen



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bullying, Friendship, Growing Up, High School, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, School, Trans Character, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 07:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13608291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhoen/pseuds/rhoen
Summary: Shisui has always been different. Itachi is more than okay with that – he still cares for him and, over time, comes to feel a deeper, lasting affection for his friend.





	Metamorphosis

**Author's Note:**

> As this is from Itachi's POV, to start with Shisui is referred to with female pronouns. They switch when Shisui wishes them to.
> 
> I'm not 100% confident in posting this. I hope there's someone out there who will enjoy it. Mentions of depression, self-harm, bullying, Shisui is trans (and people call him Komomo as that's his birth name). If you know me you'll know there's only one kind of ending I will ever give these guys, so don't worry.
> 
> My beta hasn't read this. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> Read the tags!

Shisui was always a little different, even when they were children. Itachi remembers Shisui from when they were so much younger: her long curly hair and fierce attitude, and the unhappy downturn of her mouth which was always blamed on the death of her parents. Shisui had been Komomo when they were in primary school, unhappy and alone, and always in some sort of trouble for not acting as she ought to despite being the brightest student in her year. Itachi remembers the argument that broke out when Komomo had taken scissors from the receptionist during lunch and had cut all her own hair off, to everyone’s alarm and her guardian’s dismay. The act had been blamed on lingering grief and the lack of a strong mother figure in Komomo’s life, and Itachi was warned to stay away. Komomo was a bad influence.

Komomo was also the only person Itachi liked, though. He found it hard to engage with other children his age, and also found that they didn’t want much to do with him either. He was, like Komomo, smart. He was the strange, quiet little rich kid, and they were as content to ignore him as he was to ignore them in favour of his school work, and Komomo.

Not long after the scissors incident, Komomo had come to sit with Itachi in a quiet corner of the playground, the two of them working on assembling pebbles in pleasing geometric patterns. Komomo was also tough. If Itachi were alone one of the other kids would have no doubt come and tried to destroy his hard work.

“I want to be a boy,” Komomo had announced.

Itachi, all of six years old, had blinked at her. “But you’re too pretty to be a boy.”

Komomo had destroyed their work anyway, and stormed off.

The next day Itachi had approached Komomo with his favourite book as a peace offering. Komomo had watched him suspiciously, hurt still in her eyes, as Itachi approached with the book in his arms.

“Boys can be pretty too,” Itachi said, extending the gift. “I think you’d make a wonderful boy.”

Komomo, relieved that Itachi had come to apologise, pushed the book back towards Itachi. “It’s your favourite one I can’t let you give me it.”

“But I want to.”

He’d watched as Komomo wavered, and then accepted.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Komomo had pleaded towards the end of the day.

Itachi had been confused. “About what?”

“That I said I want to be a boy. I’ll get in even more trouble.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Itachi promised, and he didn’t.

Itachi had never liked playing pretend, but this was something he didn’t mind imagining. He quickly came to realise that in a way it wasn’t important. It didn’t matter to him if Komomo was a boy or a girl. She was still Itachi’s friend, his cousin three or four times removed, and the best person Itachi knew. His father didn’t want Itachi to spend time with Komomo, but it was hard for him to police every moment of Itachi’s life, and Komomo was, to Fugaku’s chagrin, related to the family. He couldn’t very well exclude her from invitations to birthday parties if Itachi wanted Komomo to come.

The two years between Komomo moving up to high school and Itachi following were two of the hardest of his life. They were hard on Komomo too. It became difficult to spend time together, and the forced separation left Itachi feeling isolated and alone. The time he could spend with Komomo was precious. He cherished every second of it, even though he could tell Komomo was unhappy. She had a bright, cheery smile that made Itachi sad. He wished it was real.

They stole time together after school in the town library, picking a corner to hide in and talk, or sneaking down the street to the shop for sweets and then idling away the time they had walking in the park. Komomo was taller than Itachi, growing up fast and becoming even more beautiful in Itachi’s eyes, and that in turn made it harder to be around her. Itachi wasn’t sure what to do with the strange thing he felt growing within his breast; the thing he came to realise was a crush. He certainly couldn’t tell Komomo.

It was around that time that Komomo became Shisui, or at least began to. She said, in an embarrassed, awkward stutter, that she wanted to be Komomo anymore, she wanted to be Shisui. It wasn’t something Itachi fully understood, but he could tell how important it was to her, and Komomo became Shisui to him after that – at least did when they were alone. Shisui’s guardian still tried to force feminine things on her, controlling her clothes, insisting she grew her hair and had it cut in a style she approved of. Shisui was miserable at home, and barely any better at school.

“I want to be a boy,” Shisui had admitted once again, tearful as they sat in their usual spot in the library. There were grazes on her knuckles from a fight earlier that day, and Itachi had almost hugged her. Him.

“You are a boy,” Itachi announced.

Shisui had stared at him, as if expecting Itachi’s words to be mocking, and then cried. Itachi hugged her – him – and the librarian who had come over to chastise them hesitated at the fierce glare Itachi gave her over Shisui’s shoulder, and then she’d relaxed and given them a soft smile, and let them be.

They’d gone to get sweets after that, and Itachi had listened to Shisui talk as he explained something Itachi couldn’t understand feeling himself, but could understand in theory. Shisui had never felt like a girl. It felt wrong to him. He wasn’t comfortable being dressed up and treated like a girl. He’d almost been in tears again when he explained how terrifying it was to face puberty. He didn’t want that. He wanted to tear his body apart to make it stop, to fix it and make it as it should be.

Itachi’s heart, already so invested in Shisui, broke to hear the anguish in his voice. There was so little he could offer, save his time and company, and a promise: “I’ll always see you for who you are, no matter what.”

Shisui had hugged him then, and Itachi had felt the tall, willowy body against his own slight one, and wondered what changes were about to unfold.

.

Itachi was relieved when he, at long last, moved up to high school and they could spend time together. Break time and lunches, as well as after-school study sessions and clubs were taken full advantage of, and one of the first things Itachi did, as soon as he could talk Shisui into accepting, was use his allowance to go shopping. They bought clothes that were too big for Itachi but just right for Shisui and, every day, Shisui would come to school and change, relaxing as he shucked off the forced persona and became more himself. Itachi would take the clothes home amongst his own when they were dirty and have them laundered and returned with no one but himself and Shisui being any wiser. It worked. It was a good system.

Itachi wished there was a system for dealing with everything else. Shisui was strong, and had taught Itachi to be strong too, but that didn’t negate the impact of the bullying that took place. They were both outsiders, Itachi a nerdy loner whose only real friend was a weirdo, and Shisui was the disgusting tomboy with too-big boobs that drew unwanted comments from guys and girls alike. Itachi found it easier to deal with the isolation than Shisui. He’d always been okay with his own company, but all Shisui wanted was to be loved and accepted. It hurt him that his peers wouldn’t give him that, no matter how cheerfully he smiled nor how kindly he helped them with their classwork and projects. He was a good person, but, to his classmates, that wasn’t enough.

In the end, Shisui stopped helping. He shut down, the cloying weight of depression clinging to him and refusing to allow him to lift his head as he walked along the corridors. Itachi would walk beside him, scowling out at the rest of the world and resenting them for what they’d done. Shisui deserved better.

The cuts on Shisui’s arms were frightening. When people noticed but didn’t help, they seemed to disappear. Itachi knew where they were now hidden though. He wasn’t sure what to say, or how to help. He longed for Shisui to talk to him, and he made it clear he wanted to listen and was there for him, but Shisui became more guarded. He was reluctant to let Itachi help to clean the wounds, to check they were dry and didn’t get infected.

“You’ve always been so good to me,” Shisui breathed one time, his eyes still damp with tears.

“Of course I have,” Itachi said. “I care about you.”

A sad, painful smile tugged at Shisui’s lips. “You deserve so much better than me.”

Things changed after that. In his final year, Shisui stopped changing before and after school, instead remaining in the skirts he’d been given, switching two sports bras for a push-up one, and growing his hair out. He stopped pushing aside everything he’d spent his life trying to avoid, and instead pushed Itachi away. Break times became sad solitary affairs for Itachi, the after school clubs he and Shisui were part of held no joy without Shisui, and at lunch he’d catch sight of Shisui with his new friends – the ones who liked him now that his smile and friendliness came with a female form – and wonder what he’d done wrong. He missed Shisui. He missed him so much sometimes he couldn’t breathe. He’d look at the person Shisui had become – he’d even stopped correcting people when they called him Komomo – and longed to have his Shisui back. Komomo had, as far as he was concerned, never really existed beyond the first year or so of primary school, if even at all. Shisui was Shisui.

Itachi didn’t love the new person the way he loved Shisui. As a friend, Komomo was intolerable, fake and false and unnecessarily cruel to Itachi in the way she shut him out, but as someone Itachi had had a crush on for years and had fallen for… Komomo didn’t feel right. It was someone completely different.

And then Shisui left. He graduated, and moved away to university. Itachi didn’t even know which subject he’d taken, or where he’d gone. His father didn’t know or care, and Shisui’s guardian had seemed annoyed to be reminded of her charge when Itachi went to see her. Shisui had left nearly all his things behind. Itachi had been encouraged to take whatever he wanted, as Shisui’s guardian told him it was going in the bin, but despite searching high and low Itachi been unable to find the copy of _The Wind in the Willows_ he’d given Shisui all those years ago. He figured it was in the bin already.

The next, awful year at school stretched out ahead of him, and for the first time ever Itachi’s grades slipped. His father, scolding him after a concerned report from Itachi’s head of house, recognised that Itachi was missing Shisui, but again insisted that he was a bad influence. Itachi would do better without Komomo. Everyone could do without Komomo, Itachi thought. Komomo wasn't real, or wonderful in the way Shisui was. Komomo was just a ghost, an idea. It was Shisui who was tangible in Itachi's mind, and so easy to love.

Itachi wasn’t spiteful enough sabotaging himself even further just to prove his father wrong, but that’s what Fugaku thought he was doing over the next two months. His grades continued to slip. He missed Shisui with every breath he took, and with no word, no nothing from him, he couldn’t help worrying.

He found solace in helping Sasuke. His brother was at the awkward point in life where he both wanted Itachi’s help and attention and shunned it, but there was enough there to distract Itachi and to bring him home, away from the places that reminded him so much of Shisui. It took a few weeks, but the new habit took hold, and the times Sasuke had something ‘better’ to be doing, Itachi once again found himself engrossed in his school work.

His grades bounced back. He did well. Come graduation, he had his pick of universities. They had all extended him unconditional offers, and his father’s reward was to cover all the fees scholarships and funds couldn’t, and to hold an expensive congratulatory dinner. Itachi was set. He had his whole life ahead of him, and everything anyone could ever wish for.

Only, he didn’t have Shisui. He still missed him, the ache now a quiet, constant whisper bearing down on his heart. He wished he had something to remember Shisui by other than the clothes he’d bought him over the years, but that day in his room there had only been Komomo’s things, not Shisui’s. Itachi had taken nothing.

.

University is overwhelming. Student accommodation is loud and ceaseless in its sounds, and Itachi gives it almost a week before he decides that it’s really not for him. Freshers week is for the infinitely less sensible, and although he’s on good terms with his flatmates, he finds himself seeking out the quietest spots possible. There’s an uncoordinated mess of different students in his flat, and he suggests to his father that finding his own accommodation might be more suitable. Upon learning that one of Itachi’s flatmates is studying philosophy, Fugaku hastily agrees.

The flat Itachi finds – money really is no issue – is a two minute walk from the campus, and for the first time in his life Itachi has a space that’s entirely his own. The flat is quiet, clean, and modern, and he’s free to enjoy the start of university at his own leisure.

Despite having his own space, Itachi gravitates towards the campus, wanting to explore it. It’s almost the end of his second week away from home, and he feels a strange melancholy grip him. It doesn’t feel like homesickness, but a sense of longing for something he’s forgotten. The map he’s been provided is only loosely helpful, and he has to build up his own points of references, trying to remember which way takes him to the cafeteria, which to the lecture hall he’s to attend every Thursday morning. Losing himself amongst the old buildings brings him a sense of peace, of awe-inspiring insignificance when he thinks of all the people who have walked beneath the same buildings over the centuries. As he stands in the central courtyard at the heart of the university the old architecture towers above him, humbling him with its age and beauty. The fading light means most students are headed for the pubs, but Itachi doesn’t plan on going anywhere of the sort. He drifts from his distracted reverie only to gravitate towards the one place marked on the map he has been meaning to explore ever since his fleeting glimpse of it during orientation: the medical library.

The main library for the university is housed in a more modern building towards the edge of the campus, the old one having outlived its use some years ago. The medical library, however, is still tucked away in a corner of one of the oldest buildings where it's always been, spanning from the second to the fifth floor. The rows and rows of books, the wonderfully old and the excitingly new, welcome Itachi as he enters, beckoning him, and he smiles to himself as he explores the space he knows will become his second, if not his first, home. Almost no one else is around. He feels alone in the world, in the most wonderful way possible.

Only, he isn’t alone. As he peruses one of the shelves a soft gasp from behind him draws is attention from the spine he’d been inspecting, and he whips around, only to feel his mind sever almost completely from reality.

“Shisui?”

He can’t help staring, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing, because he’s sure he can’t be seeing it. Shisui stands just a short distance away, different from how Itachi remembers, but still the same: the same soft curls, the same deep brown eyes, the same presence. He’s taller, the line of his jaw harsher and his clothes more in keeping with who he is, but he’s just as beautiful as Itachi remembers. All the pain and longing that had been held carefully back tears free, slamming into Itachi, bruising his already fragile heart. Shisui has never looked so wonderful, so alive, so _himself_.

Itachi’s only aware of the fact his own hand has come up to cover his mouth when he feels the chill of his palm against his lips. His body freezes, seizing up to prevent him from doing something stupid, like launching himself at Shisui and hugging him. He’s missed him so much, so, so damn much, but he remembers the year before Shisui left, the way he’d been pushed aside and then all but abandoned when Shisui moved away without saying a word. The pain is so fresh and immediate again that Itachi’s eyes sting.

It’s not enough to hold him back, though. Itachi can’t help moving towards Shisui, crossing the distance between them in a heartbeat and flinging his arms around Shisui’s neck. He buries his face against his skin, pressed so close it’s impossible not to feel the physical change. It brings a lump to his throat, all his love and admiration rushing back along with anguish.

“Itachi,” Shisui says, and his voice is deeper, rough around the edges from more than just emotion as his hand comes up to rest lightly on Itachi’s shoulder. He doesn’t push him away, and Itachi is grateful for that. He knows he couldn’t take it.

“Fuck!” he breathes, surprised by the soft exclamation on his own lips. “I missed you, Shisui! I missed you so much. Why… why did you do that? I thought we were friends.”

Shisui pats his shoulder, saying nothing until Itachi is convinced there will be no explanation.

“I’m sorry,” is all Shisui says. His body is trembling, as if he’s afraid. Itachi clings to him just that little bit tighter, afraid Shisui will disappear again if he lets go.

“I thought I’d done something wrong.”

“No,” Shisui reassures him, shaking his head. He squeezes Itachi a little with just the one, strong arm, and then lets go, as if he hadn’t meant to do that. “It… it was me. I had to get out.”

“You could have talked to me. You could always talk to me,” Itachi tries to remind him.

Shisui’s voice is little more than a whisper. “I didn’t want to drag you down with me.”

“Drag me…?” Itachi pulls back as he tries to understand what Shisui means, and as he does so, taking in the uhappy face of the man he realises he still loves more than anything, his hand comes up to Shisui’s chest. Shisui does nothing to stop him as his palm comes to rest against the once voluminous chest, feeling how flat it is now. “You did it,” he breathes.

Shisui, as if he’s forgotten who Itachi is, looks as if he expects Itachi to judge him, harshly.

“I wish I’d been there with you,” Itachi whispers, finding it difficult to push the words past the lump in his throat. There’s pride mixed in with the hurt, admiration and pain rolled into one. He truly wishes he’d been with Shisui every step of the way.

“You do?”

“Of course.”

It’s Shisui’s turn to pull Itachi into a hug, and it’s almost bone-crushing in its intensity.

“I’m so sorry I left you,” Shisui says, his words mumbled against the fabric of Itachi’s jumper. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I missed you so much, even back in school. I hated every second of trying to be what everyone wanted me to be, I just couldn’t do it anymore, I couldn’t take it.”

Itachi needs to know. “Why did you do it?”

“I wondered if maybe I’d been wrong all alone. I thought maybe if I tried hard enough I could be who everyone said I was.”

Itachi listens, hating what Shisui endured.

“I thought I needed distance from you, and you from me. I was always being told I was a bad influence, that I wasn’t good enough for you. I believed it.”

Itachi shakes his head. “Don’t believe it anymore. It’s not true.”

Shisui gives a shaky exhale. “I won’t.”

He can’t explain it, but Itachi feels a moment of understanding pass between them, years of friendship and understanding, instinctive trust, remembered in an instant. He relaxes, and feels Shisui do the same, the new, wonderful lines of his body pressing warmly against Itachi’s. Several minutes pass, and Itachi hums in contentment, despite all that he feels.

“We’re still hugging,” he points out.

“I know,” is the only reaction he gets.

It takes another minute before Itachi can bear to pull back again, and when he does so he tugs a smile into place. “Hello.”

“Hello,” Shisui says back, struggling to smile too. It seems as if he hasn’t used the expression for a while, and Itachi longs to change that.

“I told you boys can be pretty,” he reminds Shisui, whose eyes go wide at the echo of those words from so long ago, going wider still and being accompanied by a blush as Itachi finds the courage to continue. “You look amazing, Shisui. I’m so happy for you.”

And then Shisui grins, and Itachi has to rethink the scale he has in his mind for joy and beauty. Shisui is radiant, his happiness infectious.

“Still friends?” Itachi dares to ask.

“Still friends,” Shisui promises, swaying a little on the spot. “Although I’m going to do something reckless now.”

“What?” Itachi laughs softly.

“Kiss you.”

He’s still trying to understand what’s just been said when wam lips press against his own, and his eyes go wide, a startled sound escaping his throat. The moment he realises what’s happening, and that it’s a nanosecond from being over, he leans forward, reaffirming the chaste, sweet kiss. It feels like a lifetime in the coming, and when they pull apart Itachi can’t breathe, his lungs and heart having ceased to function.

“Wow,” he murmurs.

“Yeah…” Shisui unhelpfully adds. “I kinda wanted to do that ages ago, I’m sorry.”

Itachi realises he’s smiling. The expression has to be the goofiest he’s ever worn, but somehow that doesn’t matter right now. “I’m not.”

Shisui regards him for a moment, still seeming unsure of himself.

“I’ve missed you,” Itachi repeats.

“Should we go for dinner and catch up?” Shisui suggests.

It’s the best idea Itachi has heard in his life. “Definitely.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

A little abashed, Shisui gestures in the vague direction of the exit. “Let’s go, then.”

Itachi hesitates. “Can I do something reckless too?”

Shisui, having half turned, looks back at him in question.

In answer, Itachi, thrilled and alarmed by his boldness, reaches out to take Shisui’s hand. Shisui doesn’t let go, but he doesn’t hold on either.

“Is it okay?” Itachi worries after another five seconds pass in which nothing happens.

Shisui’s hand twitches and fidgets a little in his, his face tense with consideration, and then Shisui’s fingers part, sliding between Itachi’s. Itachi gives a soft ‘oh’, sighing at the rightness of it.

“It is now.”

And he’s right. It’s the most natural thing in the world for them to lace their fingers together, walking from the library side-by-side, hand-in-hand. Itachi knows he needs to expand his lexicon, because he can’t find the words to mind to describe how happy he is in that moment knowing that he has his friend back, as well as something so, so much more...


End file.
